


Short Stories About Mental Illnesses

by Cyn_Writes



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: ADHD, Anxiety Attacks, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Gen, Original Story - Freeform, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Short Stories, Suicide, one shots, tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn_Writes/pseuds/Cyn_Writes
Summary: READ THE TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE STAY SAFE
Kudos: 2





	Short Stories About Mental Illnesses

“Ouch,” I mutter as I scratch myself on a needle stuck in my bed. But it’s a good ouch. The pain seeps into my bones causing a sickening smile to form on my face. 

“No, no, no, no!” I start punching my leg in an attempt to not scratch myself again. But it fails. Slowly picking up the needle, I bring it against the surface of my left forearm. 

“Just one scratch,” I whisper and slash it against my skin, leaving a pale white streak. Just one more. I think to myself and bring it against my skin again. One turns into two which turns into five. I take a break and stare at my work. Some of the scratches are starting to turn red. One of the scratches is releasing a bit of blood. Tears start to form in my eyes as I realize what I’ve done. 

“Shit.” I cry quietly so nobody hears me. A failure. That’s what I am. A failure who can’t keep a blade away from her skin. Well, this isn’t an ideal situation. 

Slashing even harder, I silently sob. Not from the physical pain, though. From the mental pain. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I can’t do this anymore! I bring the needle down my arm, stopping at my wrist. This is the only way to get the pain to stop. I bring it closer to the skin then pull it away, dropping it back on my bed.

I’m too much of a failure and coward to just simply drag a needle across my skin. My hand starts punching my leg again. I have to do this. I have to! I can’t take the kids at school saying I’m such a try-hard. I can’t take my brother treating me like I’m the scum of the Earth. This will be better for everyone. I’ll no longer be a disappointment for my parents. But won’t I be because I can’t even handle living? I cry harder. The tears roll down my face and onto my arms. My dreaded arms. The arms that will be the death of me. 

“Not a coward.” I start repeating to myself as I pick up the needle like it’s a mantra. “Not a coward, not a coward, not a coward.” I bring the needle over to my left wrist with a shaky hand. I lower it and make the first slash. Blood comes pouring out as it hits the bright blue vain. I immediately start feeling dizzy. Switching the needle in my hands, I bring it over to my right wrist and slit it through the skin. The blood starts to drop on my bed and I stand up on shaking legs. 

A smile starts to form on my face as I walk over to my bookshelf to get my suicide note. The one that I wrote at the beginning of the month. Every month I make a new one. I lay down on my bed and put the note by my feet and let my vision narrows. 

But my door opens. And it’s no longer peaceful. 

“Sweetie,” My mom says. “Why is your light still-” A scream cuts off her sentence. I turn my head away from her so I don’t have to watch her cry. My vision finally goes dark and I feel lighter. 

This is it. I think. This is finally the moment I’ve been waiting for. 

And then it comes.

——————————

Dear whoever finds me,  
I’m sorry. I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s too much. It was. The pain I feel- felt every day is too much. Nobody cares. Mom and Dad, I’m sorry I was such a disappointment. I’m sorry I could never live up to your standards. It hurts. It really hurts. The weight of schoolwork, grades, everything. It hurts. And hopefully, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Don’t blame yourself. I never told you because it doesn’t matter. You guys have so much on your plate and I didn’t want to worry you anymore. So please don’t blame yourselves. It’s not your fault. I promise. I guess that’s all I have to say. 

Sincerely, me


End file.
